The Longest Way Round
by jmkw
Summary: Now that Jordan called her father is there anything else than can be fixed along the way? WJ
1. Have Sky Miles, Will Travel

_**"The longest way round is the shortest way home"-Italian Proverb.**_

_Disclaimer: Don't own them but waiting for the first volley in Nynaeve's coup to happen. _

_Okay, I'm dusting off my own page and taking a solo trip for this one, so be kind. I'm so spoiled by looking to my other Nina-heads for driving lessons I don't know if I remember what steering my own bus is going to be like. _

_You know me. A little fluff, a little angst., but hopefully it'll all work out in the end. _

**

* * *

Chapter 1: Have Sky Miles Will Travel **

Jordan tossed her hairdryer on top of her cosmetic bag and zipped her carry-on shut.

"This is a one-way ticket," Woody said holding her hardcopy in his hand. "when are you planning on coming back?"

"A few days. A week at most…." she said matter-of-factly, tapping her chin taking a mental inventory of her suitcase. Or more importantly what _wasn't_ in it.

And what am I suppose to do in the mean time? Woody thought to himself. The words never came out of his mouth. He was the one who actually suggested this trip. He never figured she'd buy a ticket on the next avaliable flight out. A quick bite to eat at the end of an emotionally taxing day had ended with the two of them in her bedroom…Just not in the way he had always envisioned.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking me to the airport…"she said, adding a last minute jacket to her pile.

"I live to serve," he smiled tightly.

"Remember to feed Evander only in the morning. Just a pinch…"

Jordan looked at her watch, he did too. Pavlov's theories were alive and well. "I got it. We need to go or you'll miss your flight…."Woody said, shouldering her suitcase.

For just a few days, her bag was filled to capacity. He had made a comment to that fact when she was stuffing it. Spring in the Midwest, she claimed. If anybody would understand the need for packing for both hot and cold weather it would be a guy from Wisconsin, she argued.

"Oh, and change his water on Sunday," Jordan recited , striding into the kitchen. Where were her keys? She could have sworn she had left them right next to the fish bowl when they came in. "Use the water in the jug next to the sink."

Woody found himself looking for the elusive set of keys himself. Just not quite so thoroughly. Chicago? Who knew there was over fifty non-stop flights from Boston to Chicago everyday. Certainly not him. "Water, yeah."

Jordan turned, her hands on her hips. "Are you were paying attention? " she scowled.

"Feed in the A of M. Clean the bowl on Monday…" Woody recited back.

"….Sunday." she interrupted, zoning in on he keys that had slipped under a stack of junk mail.

"Sunday," he said, picking up the gallon water jug. "with the water labeled 'Fish Water--Do Not Drink'. Does that mean there is _fish_ in the water or…"

"I'd better call Nigel" Jordan muttered palming her evasive keys before they could disappear again.

"No, no, it'll be okay… see?" Woody said, tapping the side of the fish bowl. "_Evander _and I are bonding already."

"Don't kill my fish," she warned.

"_I won't kill your fish._ I've got everything under control," he assured her. "You just think about having a good visit with Max and getting home safely."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It will be," he smiled softly, opening her front door. "You'll see."

One last check and Jordan hit the light switch leaving the room dark. Suddenly this impromptu trip didn't sound as good of an idea as it did a half a carton of vegetarian stir-fry ago.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Woody reached out to take her hand. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to wait. Plan what she wanted to tell Max. Maybe they could make the trip together. Jus the two of them. This summer. Turn it into a vacation on the lake. Maybe take her to Kewaunee to meet the family….

He stopped himself. Woody knew how much both she and Max needed this even if he was a little like a kettle calling the pot black when it came to fixing those blood-ties burnt bridges. "Reconnecting with your father? Yes, Jordan. You've both made mistakes, but it's not too late to make up for lost time…"

Woody was secretly glad he didn't have to take his own advice.

"Then I guess we'd better go."

* * *

It was just after midnight by the time Jordan check in to her hotel. She dropped off her luggage before she jumped back into her rental in search of the address she had on a pink while-you-were-out paper. 

Over the past year Jordan and Max had mastered the knack of keeping in touch without ever having to speak to each other. A message here, a piece of forwarded mail there. She got the address to his new place when he left a message with Emy one day while she was out. The address and phone number, in Emy's flowery handwriting, was attached to with a message that read 'I needed something to keep me busy. Love you.'

The name on the sign over the storefront door was very familiar even if the façade wasn't. The last time Jordan was in this particular neighborhood of the windy city, she was hounding a homicide investigator, by the name unfortunate name of Detective Lost, about an obvious cover up. In some ways it marked the beginning to the end of her meteoric career with the Cook County Medical Examiner's Office. Then again the second she signed her employment offer letter was the start of most people's countdown.

Once inside, the newest incarnation of Pogue Mahone was just like every other Irish cop bar she'd ever been to. The underlying smell of Guinness on tap was overshadowed by an aroma you can only find in one other place…the inside of a busy police station. Jordan immediately felt right at home. She slipped onto a stool at the end of the bar and waited for the bar keep to notice his new customer….

* * *

Woody picked at the stone-cold pork lo-mien with a fork instead of chopsticks. He never really mastered the art of fishing out the slippery noodles with two skinny sticks like Jordan did. At home alone, he didn't feel the need to impress anyone with his dogged attempts. Especially not a fish. 

"She should be in Chicago by now,' he said casting a jaundice eye at the fishbowl that was taking up space on his coffee table between a stack of half read true crime novels and his dusty GameCube console.

"Since the eleven o'clock news didn't report any stories about off-duty Boston medical examiners finding dead bodies in the fuselage of an outbound domestic flight or an observant female passenger single-handedly overpowering suspected terrorists at O'hara's baggage claim I think we can safely have a second beer and watch a little Sports Center. "

Evander didn't prove to be as good of a conversationalist as Jordan claimed he was. At least he didn't complain about he decorating sense like his last overnight guest did.

Every day that went by, Woody found it harder and harder to remember the nuances of Lu's face. Yet if he closed his eyes he could remember the exact shade of lipstick Jordan wore the first time he met her. He knew should feel a little more guilty. After all, Lu and he were… damn. How did he let his life turn into such a mess?

"Well, it's just you and me, buddy" he smiled sadly at the bowl. "You probably have a killer poker face but I think we'll hold off playing cards. Tell you what. You can help me list a chair on Ebay…."

Woody had to concede that babysitting a fish wasn't that bad. He just hoped it wouldn't end up being a long term thing. Jordan once lived in Chicago. She left with a few letters of accommodation under her belt to prove it. Times have changed. She's no longer the loose canon she once was…

"Well, not need-to-be-tied-to-a fire-hydrant loose anyway," he said out loud to Evander. "She'd be an asset to any CME's staff. "

She wanted to reconnect with her father. After everything she's been through the last few months she needed to. Woody couldn't deny that. What if seeing Max again made her want to be closer to family? What if she wanted more? Lily had Madeline now. There is nothing to keep Garret in Boston once he retires and Nigel seemed to be preoccupied with Kate. It's not like Woody himself had any claim on her time. He watched that boat sail …and straight off the edge of the earth.

What if Jordan ended up wanting her spontaneous visit to became a little more permanent?


	2. A Text, How Personal

**Chapter 2**: **A Text, How Personal.**

Happy hour had poured over into the late night. Max was starting to feel every joint in his body….all at once. Not that he was complaining. When business was good the bills were paid. He rang the last call bell seconds before this last customer came in. He was so busy drawing refills to get more than just a fleeting glance of long hair and a leggy stride. Armed with two mugs for beefy guys sitting next to her, Max slid down the bar with them prepared to take one last drink order before officially locking the tap for the night.

"We're closing in fifteen," he announced not really looking in her direction.

"Then I guess you better make it whatever's on tap," Jordan drawled, her lips twitching, waiting. "That is unless I can buy the bartender a drink in sixteen."

"..Jahdan…"he breathed. Shock was written all over his face.

Jordan gave him a lopsided smile and a five fingered wave.

Max opened thirty minutes late because he had lost track of time after talking to her earlier in the day. She told him she just called to say 'Hey'. _Hey_ turned into an benign exchange of current events and asking about the weather. Still it was wonderful to just hear her voice again. Now she was sitting no more thatn four feet away from him.

"What are you doing here?" The words tumbled out of his mouth.

"I heard there was a new bar in town. I thought I'd check it out." she said.

She might have pulled off the nonchalance in her tone and body posture if it weren't for the sudden paleness of her face. Max saw right through her and to the little girl who needed some token of reassurance from her father.

Max marched around the end of the bar as if she were a figment of his imagination ready to disappear if he didn't act quickly. And in front of the late night crowd he engulfed her into his arms.

"Dad…" Jordan whispered.

* * *

"…And the next thing I know Bug is calling in telling Dr. Macy that he's taking some time off and that he and Lily are looking for a bigger place to live…" Nigel divulged lightheartedly.

Woody was flabbergasted. Bug. _Bug_ ! He still couldn't believe it. Bug, the quietly reserved ,almost cloistered man he thought he knew not only stepped up to the preverbal plate but smacked it clean out of the ball park on the first swing. _Who knew? _

"I always knew he had it in him," Nigel confided proudly. "I'm just happy that he didn't decide to wait until Madeline was walking the floors with her own baby to make his move. Speaking of which, I understand you are fish sitting, Woodrow. How is that going…"

Nigel wasn't very subtle in his segway. In fact, if it was about as understated as pile of flaming dog poop on a door step.

"Good," Woody answered rubbing the back of his neck. "….good."

Nigel sighed deeply and hit a few keys on his keyboard before he spoke again. "So Jordan is visiting Max in Chicago. Have you heard from her?"

"I got a text this morning. I guess she found him last night. They're having breakfast this morning," Woody said , his tone lackluster.

"A text," Nigel tsked. "How….personal."

"It was early," Woody said, grasping for an excuse. "She probably thought she be interrupting."

"Interrupting?" Nigel snorted "What? Evander's beauty sleep? Or have you've met another …therapist."

"No, not… nobody," Woody threw up his hands in defeat. "I don't know. She probably thought I couldn't take the call.

"She should have just mailed you a letter in that case, " Nigel sighed, wanting nothing more than to box his friend's ears. "It would be less intrusive. "

Woody rolled his eyes and looked around the room trying to remember why he stopped by in the first place.

"May I offer you a word of advice?" Nigel said turning away from his work.

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to give it to me anyway."

"Learn a lesson from Bug. Don't kill time looking for the right moment. They don't exist. All _waiting_ is going to get you is a lifetime of missed opportunities. "

Woody flashed Nigel a sad, but understanding smile. "I think the right moment came, slapped me in the face, and blew past a number of times. Too many to count anymore. I doubt even the not-so-right ones would work at this point."

"Then crash and burn in a braze of glory," Nigel said boldly. "You'll never know if you settle for living with reading text messages and cleaning fish tanks."

Woody cringed. Nigel had nailed his hopes and fears in a hand few of harsh, but well meaning words.

"You know," Nigel mused returning his attention to his keyboard. "there's got to be at least thirty non stop flights out of Logan to Chicago each and every day…."

"…Fifty," Woody corrected.

"Fancy that."

* * *

Jordan could really use a drink, but since it wasn't even noon, she settled for a bottle of water out of the hotel room's mini bar. Breakfast with Max went better than she thought it would. Still it was easier said than done.

She didn't kid herself into thinking that they could make up for years of estrangement with a few niceties and an endless pot of coffee. It was awkward at best. Jordan was quick to set ground rules and Max was just as quick to respond that there were subjects that were off limits. Once the particulars were worked out they settled into a pleasant meal.

Max talked about challenges of opening a new business and Jordan filled him in on the going-ons in Boston over the last two years. It wasn't until the subject of her surgery came up that they hit a speed bump. Their issues became blaringly obvious.

"Why didn't anyone call me?" he snapped. Jordan explained that she had enough people hovering over her. She didn't need him harassing the medical staff or tipping over Garret and the others. She left out the real reason she didn't contact him was because she wasn't up to dealing with the inevitable guilt trip they'd both be on.

No, she waiting until she got a clean bill of health and flew 1000 miles on the spur of the moment for that.

Jordan told him she'd stop by the bar later. Just for old times sake, she'd even play bar wench for awhile if he asked nice. She wasn't going to romanticize her time in Chicago. They'd always have they're problems, but maybe she could leave there with a promise of at least trying to make on honest effort to stay in touch a little better.

A little more drained then she was willing to admit, Jordan kicked off her shoes and settle down on the hotel mattress. She opened up her cell phone and wondered how things were at home.

Funny how when she thought about home her thumb hovered over Woody's speed dial number. She texted him first thing that morning. A the time, texting seemed more practical then talking. It was a cop out and she knew it. But she didn't want to field the barrage of questions she assumed Woody would ask.

Or maybe the problem is that she did.

Her thumb was still hovering over the button when she was stuck with the fact that she _did _want Woody's reassurance.

God, where did that come from, she chastised herself. It must be jetlag. Woody was her go-to guy for _work_ and maybe an occasional familiar face across the dinner table. He wasn't the type of man one went to for _support_. He tended to shy away from stressful situations. In fact, he avoided them like the plague. His assigned stints as her jailer during her recovery were prime examples. Jordan didn't want to admit that maybe she purposely spun him up. Maybe just, _maybe_ she was pushing herself away so as not to be disappointed when he kept is distance when she needed it. Deep down inside Jordan was still hurt by his rejection after her break up with JD. It's ironic how one little word --"rebound"-- could produce a canker that never seemed to heal.

Healed or not, she really wanted to hear his voice. Even if it was just to ask him if he wanted her to bring him back an Italian beef sandwich from Portillo's. Jordan dialed his number. She didn't hear the extension ring in the hallway outside her hotel room door.


End file.
